


release

by velmadinkley



Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: F/F, mentions of blayne briefly but to a good end, sex with feeling, yet another episode 2x06 fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 04:10:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16055294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velmadinkley/pseuds/velmadinkley
Summary: “Come upstairs with me?” She asked, the husk in her voice dripping with something that made Isabella sure she could feel her own heart beat. Her tongue was trapped, and she still could not speak. The moment felt unreal, something too close to her own imaginings in the deepest depths of the night.-isabella and charlotte feeling one another.





	release

**Author's Note:**

> hello! so i've recently finished harlot's and these two have overcome my brain. i, like most people on this tag, felt a burning need to write this so i did! this is dedicated to my friend who i was supposed to wait for to watch the last few episodes but i went ahead and watched them anyway and now i have to pretend that i haven't watched the lead up to this scene at least 10 times. 
> 
>  
> 
> i feel like the beginning's a bit... meh but the writing improves later. please stick with it! i welcome any constructive feedback too!
> 
> -

“Let me break his spell.” 

Charlotte whispered it, offered the words to Isabella as if they were a secret. She felt warmth, more warmth it seemed than she ever had, coil up from low in her stomach, all the way to the softness of her cheeks. Charlotte’s hand resting there only made it warmer. She leant forward, and Isabella thought she might move away, but was locked in place. Her own breath would not even move.

Charlotte’s mouth pressed against Isabella’s with a softness that made her melt and ache all at once. She could breathe again, move again. Her fingers raised tentatively to touch where Charlotte’s was on her cheek, and even her hand felt beautiful. 

Time passed, and her breath became heavier, hotter, and they pressed more firmly against one another. Charlotte’s hand had moved to the back of her neck, raking gently there with her nails, her other at her waist. It made the hair on Isabella’s head prickle. 

Charlotte pulled away from her mouth, and for a small moment Isabella noticed the swell of her own lips against the cool air. But a mouth was making its way across her cheek, and then below her jaw. The graze of some teeth, the wetness of a tongue elicited a small noise from the base of her throat. She could feel a smile against her, and then a loss of contact. 

Charlotte’s face stayed close when it moved, and Isabella could see her bright eyes even in the candlelight. 

“Come upstairs with me?” She asked, the husk in her voice dripping with something that made Isabella sure she could feel her own heart beat. Her tongue was trapped, and she still could not speak. The moment felt unreal, something too close to her own imaginings in the deepest depths of the night. 

After a moment, five moments, Isabella took a breath and stood, held out her hand. The smile she got in response was dazzling, making her form a small smile of her own, and she was guided out of the door. 

Before Isabella could step completely into the room, Charlotte closed the door, pressing their fronts together, Isabella’s back against it. She was kissed with a fervour that was eagerly returned, and she found her hands, more confident now, on the sides of Charlotte’s neck. They pulled her in, and Isabella could feel nothing but the sensation of being touched, being wanted, her own desires being met. It was dizzying. 

Charlotte was still smiling when she tugged her away from the door, pulled away from her. 

“I’d like to undress you now.” She said, swiftly moving to pins and knots and working at her layers. It took time, time which allowed Isabella to catch her breath. “Why do you not speak, Lady Isabella?” Her gown and its skirts fell from her. Charlotte’s whisper was at her ear, “Surely you are not afraid of me.” 

“I…” Isabella choked on her own vulnerability. “I have told you that I have never…” 

Charlotte moved to look at her eyes, her lips, her breasts and back again, her lust not seeming to waver. “I will ease your worry soon enough.” 

Isabella began to help to undress herself. 

Soon, she was only wearing her shift. She gazed at Charlotte and braved a step forward, a hand on her face.

“Now you.” 

Charlotte smirked, and made swift work of her own clothing, less layered than Isabella’s. She paused at her shift for a moment before pulling it over own head, exposing herself completely. Isabella had not the chance to stare and marvel before Charlotte pressed their fronts together again, and she could feel her more fully than she’d ever felt anyone. 

“Kiss me.” Charlotte said. “I plead you.” 

The fire that had gone to embers in Isabella’s stomach at their undressing flared fierce once again, and she did as she was asked.

Soon, she was manoeuvred to the bed, and she did not need instruction to climb upon it, did not need to pull Charlotte atop her. For she was already there, and at her neck, that spot on her neck, and she couldn’t help but let another noise escape. 

Where Charlotte had been straddling her, she now slipped a thigh firmly between Isabella’s, and Isabella sounded a whimper. A hand trailed her thigh, and hip, waist, breast. Squeezed gently, experimentally, and Isabella watched as she unfolded under Charlotte Wells’ touch. Her eyes were hooded as she watched her chest become covered in wet kisses, as she felt hips rock against her in a slow and delectable rhythm. 

Her own hands found Charlotte’s back, and she found herself running her nails down the softness of it while she lost herself to sensation, to pleasure. 

Charlotte moved up again to her mouth, all the while her fingers moved lower, running them through hair between thighs. 

“Touch me.” Isabella said, and Charlotte ran her fingers down into warmth, moved them steadily, expertly. She shook underneath the feel of it, wanted more, ground her hips upwards, her hands finally grasping Charlotte’s backside. 

Charlotte let out a delighted, breathless laugh. “Not too fast.” She said keeping her steady movements despite Isabella’s need. “I want…” 

She pulled away, and Isabella gasped at the loss. She was lowering down her body, lifted her thigh, trailed down it with her lips until Isabella could feel the heat of her breath. 

“I want to taste you.” Isabella shuddered and pressed her lips together as another whimper threatened to escape. Charlotte reached for Isabella’s hand, and placed it firmly behind her head. 

She understood and tugged her head gently down. A mouth covered her, a tongue stroked her, and the fire was coiling around even her toes now, burning sublimely. “Charlotte…” She said through a laboured breath, and it spurred her harder, faster. Charlotte brought her hand again to the one she had placed on her head and gripped it tighter, briefly, before bracing herself on the bedsheets. Isabella dug her fingers into her scalp, hard, heard a muffled sound of approval from below. 

Isabella let her eyes fall shut now, her head fall back completely. She was at the mercy of only her own indulgence. Noises began to leave her mouth freely, the breath that came out with them like dragon fire. She was ignited. It seemed life itself was collapsing into her, or beyond her, hot. Spots dotted the insides of her eyelids, and behind them, Isabella could see Charlotte as if she were the sun. 

Her back arched, her hands and feet clenched, and the fire overtook her, and she burned, burned so exquisitely. 

Gradually, the feeling tapered away and she was brought back into her surroundings, new. Isabella’s eyes fluttered open to catch Charlotte’s face moving to hover again over her own. She kissed her deep, and Isabella could taste herself. 

Their lips parted and, before she could help it, a small laugh bubbled up her throat, and she felt it for what it was: joy, relief, release. 

“What is it?” Charlotte asked, moving from above her and to her side. 

“I- I never thought… if you knew what he had done to me that you would want to... And yet.” She laughed again, quietly. With another person she might have been embarrassed. 

“And yet.” Charlotte replied, affection in her voice and in the stroke of a hand on her waist, “You are a wonderful creature, Lady Isabella, who deserves her pleasure. Do not deny it from yourself any longer.”

Isabella felt tears prick at her eyes, quashed them down as best she could. There was still a glean on them when she turned on her side to face Charlotte, a watery smile on her face. “Thank you.” 

Charlotte dipped her head, paused, and looked back up with a glint in her eye. “How could I not, anyway, when you courted me so ardently?” 

Isabella blinked in shock. “And what do you say is the number of times you have appeared at my doorstep?” 

“You invited me to you with a rose that matched your own! Payed for my time and left me wanting!” Charlotte prodded at Isabella playfully.

The corner of Isabella’s lips rose, and she shuffled but an inch away from Charlotte. “So you _were_ the one wanting.” 

Isabella kissed her between their laughs, rolling Charlotte back against the pillows. She pulled back, and humour slowly left their faces. The ghost of a smile remained as Isabella looked over, for the first time, a completely bare Charlotte Wells. She traced a hand over her face, down her neck, across her shoulder. She was being looked at with growing lust and it spurred her to move lower, around the fullness and the tip of her breast. Charlotte’s breathing laboured, and Isabella took it in her hand firmly, marvelling at the desire in the face below her. 

Echoes of words rang in her ears, something her brother said about Charlotte enjoying… and her own response, about Charlotte being good at pretending.

“What gives you pause?” Charlotte asked, her voice heavy. 

Isabella pulled her hand and eyes away. “Do you want this? Really?” 

“Isabella.” She said, impatiently, before softening, “Isabel.” She took her head in her hands, guiding their eyes to meet again. “ _Yes._ Yes.”

It was all she needed. Isabella pulled off her stay, grabbed Charlotte’s waist and pulled together their bodies. Her thigh went between Charlotte’s as she had done before. She kissed her neck, let her hands roam over smoothness, delighted in the feeling of their breasts pressed together, their hips rocking into one another. Charlotte was more liberal with her sounds, and Isabella chose not to think if they were genuine or not. She simply let herself believe they were. She did not want to deny herself the pleasure of the night. 

Her hands wandered further, round the back of her, round her thigh. Up against her, stroking. 

Charlotte grunted, her hands tightening on the backs of Isabella’s shoulders. “Harder. Faster. _Yes._ ” 

Isabella had stopped kissing her now, hovered over her and gazed at how she smiled when she was touched so, how her brows raised and her eyes crinkled. She moved her arm that had been propping her up, stroked the sweat on Charlotte’s forehead, raked her fingers through knotted hair. Tightened them. 

Charlotte’s breath caught, and she opened her eyes enough to stare into Isabella’s. “Inside. Please.” 

Isabella revelled in the velvety feel of her, the sweetness of her mouth when Charlotte pulled down her head. The ache in her arm was nothing compared to the blaze in her core, and both propelled her. Clumsily, eagerly, her thrusts were met with Charlotte’s now frantic hips, her mouth with sounds from Charlotte’s throat, her body with another. She could cry at the feel of it. 

Isabella could not look away when charlotte buckled, tensed, moaned. She drank in the sight as if it were honey. 

She slowed her movements as Charlotte’s did, stopped when she sighed, limp on the bed. Isabella began to pull away but was pulled gently back. 

“Stay.” She shuffled her body down a little, her head guided down to Charlotte’s shoulder. She felt a kiss on her forehead and placed her worked arm over Charlotte’s stomach.

Isabella lay there, held, a hand tracing patterns onto her arm, trails of stardust. She did not think of the morning to come, nor the past. Only now. 

And to sleep, to something else, she fell.


End file.
